Even Internet banking has a low-tech component for the blind.

Kelly


The San Diego Union-Tribune

Monday, September 30, 2002

Blind e-banker depends on a low-tech abacus for work

By Chris Cobbs

ORLANDO, Fla. -- His fingers move with the swift, delicate purpose of a
pianist coaxing a sensuous melody from a Beethoven concerto.

John Allen is lost in his numbers.

Seated at a desk in a sprawling open area with dozens of cubicles, the
blind e-banker is effectively alone, listening to his talking computer
through earphones and talking back with his hands. As the curled fingers
of one hand punch in digits on a keyboard, the other hand manipulates
beads on an abacus, an ancient counting device used for addition,
subtraction and toting up the price of goods.

Allen, who once showed computer magnate Bill Gates how a vision-impaired
individual works a PC via talking software, is equally proficient on a
counting tool with a 2,000-year history.

Practical antiquity and modern technology intersect in the fingertips of
this SunTrust worker who answers customers' online queries about the
$9.75 ice cream purchase they forgot to enter in the checkbook.

As he hears a customer's online inquiry, he enters the person's account
number, transaction amount and phone number on the abacus.

"I use it as a note pad," he says. "I can enter numbers two or three
times faster on the abacus than on the keypad."

The beads on his well-used abacus are starting to show wear, the finish
flaking off bit by bit.

So sensitive are his fingertips that when he feels a particle of paint
peeling, "it's like touching the thorn on a rosebush."

Allen, 32, handles about 10 e-mails per hour at the SunTrust operations
building, a high security facility set among a cluster of warehouses near
Florida Mall in Orlando.

A former telephone order taker at a Pizza Hut, Allen has worked his way
up to the online banking job through several years of technology and
independent-living classes in Miami and Orlando.

He hopes to take more advanced computer programming classes but says he
will never abandon his abacus, a trusty companion since he lost his
vision to retinitis pigmentosa at the age of 10 in 1980.

As a substitute for paper and pen, the abacus enables him to add,
multiply, divide and use fractions. He takes an abacus nearly everywhere,
jotting down a phone number to be entered into his PC, or keeping a
running total on his spending at the grocery bill.

"I'm never off more than a penny at the grocery store, even if I spend
$100," says Allen, a divorced father of one.

His reliance on the abacus is unusual because few vision-impaired
individuals are trained to use the low-tech tool anymore.

"We don't teach it now," says Joyce Hildreth, director of program
development at CITE and a former instructor for Allen.

"But I hope the abacus doesn't go away, because it's a good tool for
helping people learn to think in terms of units when counting. And, let's
face it, if the power goes out on your computer, you're up the creek if
you can't work an abacus."

Since he is unable to see, Allen must rely completely on the dexterity
and precision of his fingertips to manipulate numbers. And there's a
similar surgical precision in his manner and the layout of his desk, says
Karen Tharpe, who supervises Allen and a staff of 30 online staffers.

"He's so aware of his surroundings," she says. "If you move his keyboard
a half-inch, he knows. He always sets his water bottle in the exact same
place, to the right and above his keyboard. There's no paper on his desk,
and he never uses a trash can."

Quiet and focused, Allen sits down and gets to work immediately each
morning. He rarely speaks unless someone else speaks first, yet he talks
at length when addressed and often jokes about his blindness.

"When I was 4 years old, I was playing tag with a little girl in our
neighborhood in Miami," he says.

"It was getting dark, and I ran into a fence while chasing the girl. That
was the first time I knew something was wrong with my eyes. But I guess
it was better to run into the fence than the sticker bush next to it."

The staff at SunTrust wasn't sure just what to expect when Allen was
hired last December, but he has quickly learned about banking.

Like other online workers, he's required to process 10 e-mails per hour
with 95 percent quality for grammar, spelling accuracy and completeness,
says Tharpe.

"He's still a little slower than the rest, but he's improving monthly. It
takes time to get up to par. He's sweet and even-keeled, and he never
shows frustration. He's an inspiration to all of us."

In the event of any frustration, Allen has a way to take out his
feelings. A former black belt in judo, Allen is working out nightly
trying to shed weight and get back in shape. After being struck by a car
a decade ago, he grew lax and gained weight but now hopes to return to
judo competition next year.

Even in the rough and tumble of judo, he uses his hands to guide his
movements.

With his fingertips gripping the lapels of an opponent's workout suit,
Allen can sense the lean of the body, the direction of the feet, even the
angle of the toes, he says.

Numbers, movements, things visible and invisible, Allen is always in
touch with reality, measuring the world through the tips of his fingers.


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